


They Also Serve

by IgnobleBard



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Drama, Elves, M/M, Romance, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22722910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnobleBard/pseuds/IgnobleBard
Summary: Erestor envies Glorfindel's adventures, until he has one of his own.
Relationships: Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75
Collections: 2020 My Slashy Valentine





	They Also Serve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiliss/gifts).



> Written for MSV 2020 for Keiliss.

Erestor’s window hadn’t always faced the courtyard. Since the founding of Imladris, his quarters had been on the west side of the Last Homely House, in the same wing as Elrond and his family. 

Then he met Glorfindel.

Standing in front of the window, searching the tree line of the forest for a glimpse of Glorfindel’s return, he thought about how many times he had been in this same position. When Glorfindel first came to the valley Erestor welcomed him the same as everyone else. Unlike some, however, he wasn’t instantly infatuated by the heroic legend Glorfindel represented. He was fascinated to see a man literally back from the dead, of course, who wouldn’t be? Especially since he was one of the people Glorfindel had saved on that fateful day. 

Despite this fact, or perhaps because of it, Erestor did not immediately befriend Glorfindel. They chatted occasionally over supper, or played chess in the library on winter days, but there was only a friendly give and take between them. Over time, as their friendship grew, they found themselves more often in each other’s orbit. They were always running into each other in the library, at concerts, while taking strolls in the garden or riding through the valley. There was something about the two of them that just… fit together somehow. 

Erestor could never pinpoint just when their friendship became something more, but he would never forget their first night together. All they had done previously was kiss in surreptitious shadows or hold hands beneath the chessboard. Then, one night as Erestor was retiring to his rooms, Glorfindel asked if he could come in for a nightcap. The next thing Erestor knew, they were in his bed, grappling in an awkward but persistent tangle of arms and legs. Afterward, they both grew shy and hesitant, neither trusting that their lovemaking was more than a mutual desire for a connection with another, any other, long denied. They lay in an embrace neither was able to break, reluctant to let the moment end, but they couldn’t meet each other’s eyes.

“I - I hope that you don’t think I invited myself in to… for this,” Glorfindel said. “Not that it isn’t what I wanted. I just don’t know if you…”

“Wanted it too. Yes, I did.” Erestor finished his sentence. “I have wanted to for a long time but I didn’t dare risk our friendship in case you…”

“Didn’t want a relationship,” Glorfindel provided the conclusion to his thought. “But I do want a relationship with you, that is if you’re willing…”

“To give it a try?” Erestor continued, “I do, I really do. I just don’t want…”

“To take advantage,” they said in unison.

Their eyes met, and the twinkle of mirth in them burst forth into laughter. They both instantly relaxed and their slow, intimate kissing led to the the most genuine and satisfying experience Erestor had ever had with a lover. 

The next morning, Erestor had awakened to a chill room, the fire having gone out overnight, and the warmth of his partner’s body gone. A stab of shame and disappointment washed over him before he realized Glorfindel was scheduled for an early patrol and hadn’t simply abandoned him after having second thoughts. The relief he had felt then washed over him anew with the memory. That was the day he made the decision to move his quarters from the west side of the house to the east, in a suite overlooking the courtyard. He told Elrond about his plan over breakfast.

“I have no objection, but why do you want a view of the courtyard?” Elrond asked. “Nothing goes on there except the occasional visitor or a change of guard.”

“Or the return of the patrols,” Erestor said.

Elrond raised an eyebrow, then broke into a grin. “Have you finally made your intentions known then?”

Erestor couldn’t hide his blush. “As it happens _we_ have. Mutually.”

Elrond shook out his napkin and picked up his fork. “It’s about bloody time.”

Since then, Erestor had stood in this window countless hours, watching for Glorfindel’s return. His frequent absences were not only due to patrols along the Bruinen, Glorfindel often traveled to aid in the fight against the darkness that never touched the valley. There were foul creatures plaguing the surrounding lands to be dealt with, as well as raids by orcs or trolls, bandits robbing unwary travelers, Elves seeking the valley for healing in the wake of battle and needing an escort to find their way to The Last Homely House.

Sometimes Glorfindel returned with disturbing dents in his armor, or covered head to toe in dirt, or with limbs bandaged and bloody. More often though, he returned with his helm under his arm, his sword sheathed, and his golden hair flowing free, a signal to Erestor that all was well. 

Whenever and in whatever state Glorfindel returned, their eyes sought each other as soon as he came within sight of the house. When visual contact was made, they broke into twin, beaming smiles. Their reunions always made the wait worth the parting. Life was good.

Erestor had been a smith long ago in Gondolin, but after the fall of the city he lost interest in the craft. He still dabbled in the art occasionally, when time permitted and the mood took him. Erestor was strong and his hands deft, but he was no warrior. He often wished he could ride along with Glorfindel on his sorties instead of being relegated to a watcher. Of all the things they shared, this was the one thing denied him that hurt his pride. In his daydreams he fought alongside Glorfindel, saving him from the sword stroke of many a goblin.

For his part, Glorfindel did not want a warrior for a partner. He often told Erestor that he wished the burden of command had never been his. His strength and power had heightened since his rebirth, but the attributes were a double edged sword. 

“Just as much as you would like to take up the sword to be with me, I wish to lay it down to be with you. Your ingenuity, patience, and wisdom are skills I can never match. But then no one ever appreciates the skills they possess, do they?”

“I suppose not, but it’s hard to know you are out there facing danger while I sit safely here with my rosters and reports. I like to think if I was out there with you, I could make a difference.”

“You make a difference,” Glorfindel asserted. “You being here upon my return makes all the difference.”

Erestor hated the platitude but melted at the heartfelt emotion beneath it.

Outside the peaceful valley the years rolled by, the shadow waxed and waned. Imladris did what it could to keep the darkness at bay, and what it could do was Glorfindel. 

Erestor’s memories faded as the subject of his vigil entered the valley with his men from the forest that abutted the Bruinen. He had returned at last, and in one piece! After almost a month, Erestor was more than ready to welcome him home.

Later that night as they lay in each other’s arms, basking in their shared warmth, Glorfindel mentioned the snows had begun in the high passes and would likely be in the area within a week. 

“They are early this year. It may mean an increase in orc raids if the winter is bad and their stores don’t hold. I guess we shall see.”

“I hope not. I would hate to have you forced to spend the winter in the wilds like you did a few years ago.”

“A few years? It’s been at least fifty.”

“Has it? It seems like so much less.” Erestor snuggled closer and soon fell asleep.

The next morning he awoke to a surprise. Imladris was blanketed in snow, its first snow in well over two hundred years. Erestor stood at the window in his dressing gown, watching the fat flakes drift from the sky in a swirling curtain of white. Glorfindel came up behind him and gathered Erestor into his arms. 

“Looks like the snow followed me home,” he said. “This is perfect weather for staying in all day by the fire.”

“Umm,” Erestor replied. “It would be if I didn’t have work to do.”

“You mean I just got home and have only a few days before I have to go out again and you’re going to be busy the whole time.”

“Not the whole time, just a few hours today and tomorrow.”

“I’ll have to find some way to amuse myself until you’re finished then.”

All through the day the snow grew thicker and deeper. From Erestor’s window, Glorfindel watched as a set of snow sculptures popped up along the perimeter of the courtyard, thanks to the skillful sculpting of some of the house’s artisans. He couldn’t help but notice that two of them bore a striking resemblance to him and Erestor, while two more were the very image of Elladan and Elrohir. By the time Erestor returned to his rooms, the drifts had risen up to the hips of of the figures.

Glorfindel pointed them out to Erestor when he came in. He looked upon them with an amused smile that lit his face then was quickly gone, replaced by a look of concern.

“Elrond believes this the snows will continue. We may be in for a long, harsh winter,” Erestor said thoughtfully.

Over the coming days temperatures fell so precipitously a couple of the smaller waterfalls were transformed into cascades of crystalline splendor. Beyond Imladris, the settlements and villages rapidly began to run through their stores of food and supplies. Game was scarce and, as Glorfindel predicted, orcs began to show up near villages and settlements, stealing and killing the unwary. Packs of wolves grew bold enough to cross the frozen ford and had to be driven back by the wardens. 

Thanks to Elrond’s foresight and Erestor’s organizational skills, Imladris had stores to spare. As the situation became more dire, the decision was made to send wagons throughout the surrounding areas with supplies and medicines. Glorfindel and a contingent of warriors would lead the company and volunteers would drive the wagons. Erestor volunteered at once.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Elrond asked. “You haven’t been out of the valley in more than a long year.”

“That’s why I want to go. I feel guilty staying here when there is so much good to be done out there.”

“You know you don’t have anything to prove.”

Erestor looked down at his hands. “I believe I do, Elrond. For too long I have hidden away, letting others take the risks while I bury myself in endless paperwork and lore. I need to prove to myself that I have the courage to push beyond my limits.” He looked up, meeting Elrond’s gaze. “And I think I could do some good.”

Elrond considered this and nodded. “Very well. Just try to keep the unnecessary risks to a minimum.”

“Don’t worry,” Erestor assured him, “I’m not that brave.”

Glorfindel was less accepting of Erestor’s plan. “Why? Why do you want to go bumping around the countryside in a wagon when you are needed here? There are plenty of others who are willing to go.”

Erestor was a bit wounded by his reaction. “I thought you would be happy to have me along. This is something we can do together.”

“This isn’t a holiday, my love, it’s a rescue mission. The wilds are dangerous at the best of times, and this is hardly that.”

“You don’t think I can handle myself,” Erestor accused.

“No, of course not. It isn’t that,” Glorfindel said. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again.

“Say it.”

“I’m worried about you,” Glorfindel admitted. “If something happened to you…” He trailed off, turning away.

Erestor slipped up behind him and put his arms around his waist. “Think of it this way, we’ll be together. I won’t have to wait here, wondering if something has happened to _you_.”

Glorfindel sighed. “It’s not the same. We’re not on equal footing here and you know it.”

“No, I have the higher claim. I have you to protect me.” He nuzzled the nape of Glorfindel’s neck.

Glorfindel stroked the back of Erestor’s hand with his fingers. “Then I guess that’s what I’ll do.”

Once the supplies were gathered and loaded, the party set out. The first leg of the trip was cold but uneventful. Once they crossed the river though, the wind grew harsher, more biting. The wagons had more difficulty navigating the snow. Erestor would never admit it, but he was surprised by how quickly his strength waned in the unrelenting wind. The struggle to hide his exhaustion was exhausting in itself. By the time they set up camp, it was all Erestor could do to lower himself to the ground without falling over.

Glorfindel paid him no attention as he and the warriors busied themselves pitching the tents and starting the fire while Erestor and the other volunteers broke out the provisions. The company ate their supper around the fire and it wasn’t until Erestor found himself being shaken awake so he could go to bed that he realized he’d fallen asleep.

The first few days were difficult, but as their travels continued Erestor grew acclimated to the harsh conditions. Every village they visited welcomed them with gratitude. They distributed food and administered medicines and remedies to the sick. They helped farmers repair drafty walls and chopped wood for fires. At night, they slept in barns or the houses of residents eager to show them hospitality for their aid. 

The only disappointment for Erestor was that he and Glorfindel spent little time together. The warriors rotated guard duty and Glorfindel spent part of every night taking his shift. They could not even openly show affection for each other in the villages, for Men frowned on such relationships. Many nights Erestor wondered why he had had been so adamant to accompany Glorfindel on a mission. This whole situation was not how he’d pictured it at all.

But it was during the second week of their journey home that everything fell apart. The wind and snow that had plagued them off and on for days turned suddenly into a full blown blizzard. The snow fell and swirled in icy ribbons, obscuring even their keen sight. The wind howled so loudly it was nigh indistinguishable from the howling of wolves and the horses grew skittish. The company could barely hear their own shouts to each other over the raging winds.

Then it happened. The horse pulling Erestor’s wagon got spooked by a falling tree limb and bolted. Erestor tried to get the animal under control but either it couldn’t hear him or was too frightened to stop. The wagon hit something hidden by snow and Erestor went flying. By the time he had extricated himself from a deep snowbank the wagon was nowhere in sight. Neither were his companions. He called out to them as he tried to get his bearings but it was impossible to make out any features of the landscape with the snow falling so hard. He shouted again, realizing too late that, while his companions might be out of earshot, enemies might not be. A group of hulking figures materialized out of the trees and suddenly Erestor found himself surrounded by orcs.

He had a sword, but he was greatly outnumbered and feared drawing it might spur them to violence. 

“Well, look what we have here. An Elf what’s lost its way,” the leader said.

“What shall we do with him?” said another.

“First, we’d better make sure to take that sword off him,” said another. “Then we can do as we like.”

“You’re welcome to it,” Erestor shouted against the wind. “It’s no use against snow.”

“Hand it over then,” said the leader. “You do and we promise to kill you before we roast you.”

Erestor removed his cloak and slowly slipped his baldric over his head, holding it out in front of him. The leader grinned triumphantly, and stepped forward to claim the prize. As he did so, Erestor tossed the baldric while at the same time grasping the hilt of the sword, pulling it free from the sheath. He spun, forcing the orc behind him to take a step back. When he did, Erestor ran between him and the other closest orc and took off at a run. With a shout of indignant surprise, the orcs took up the pursuit.

Erestor dropped his sword as he ran and the orc in the lead stopped to pick it up, causing another of the orcs to run into him. Both crashed to the ground cursing Erestor and each other. The rest of the band, about five more, surged on. They had no hope of catching a determined, adrenalin-fueled Elf over deep snow and he easily outran them. Eventually he stopped to catch his breath in a rocky hollow beneath a ridge of trees. Within the hollow, the sound of the wind was not as strong and he stilled and listened. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart. He hoped that meant he had lost his pursuers.

Of course now he found himself sans cloak, or sword, or food, or Glorfindel. 

Through chattering teeth he chastised himself. “If I die, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He decided he had better seek proper shelter before night fell or the next time he and Glorfindel met it would be on the hither shore. It was growing dark when he spotted what he’d been looking for, a narrow cave obscured by the snow. Outside this small shelter he found some flint. It would do him no good tonight for he couldn’t risk a fire, but perhaps it would come in handy upon the morrow. If he made it that long.

Erestor huddled in the small space, on a cushion of dry leaves that had been blown in by the wind at some point before the storm. It wasn’t ideal, but the temperature inside the cave was definitely warmer than outside. He thought of all the stories he’d read of two lovers caught in the wilderness unawares, making love in a cave to keep warm. If only real life were as accommodating as fiction he mused.

He got next to no sleep, but when dawn came he was still alive and that gave him hope. When he emerged from the cave it was to the first day with sun he had seen for weeks. With the temperature hovering just below freezing it did him little good physically, but it did lift his spirits. Now if he could just figure out how to get home.

Using his small knowledge of woodcraft, he determined the direction he wanted to go and set out. He remained vigilant for danger as he walked lightly upon the snow, listening carefully for the sound of orcs or the Elves of his company. The woods were so silent it felt for a time like he was the only living creature in the world. As he neared the edge of the wood, he heard birdsong. He looked up to see a goldfinch twittering in the trees above.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the way to Rivendell would you?” he asked.

The bird stopped singing and fixed him with one beady eye before flying away.

Next time Galadriel visited, he was going to have to get her to teach him bird language he thought to himself. He’d spent too much time learning Anduiac and not enough learning goldfinch.

Erestor continued on until the trees thinned, then opened up to a wide plain. He debated for a long time before stepping beyond the cover of the woods. If his reckoning was correct he was at least two days from Imladris, which meant at least a day and night spent in the open. Already the sun was struggling to break through deepening banks of clouds that carried the promise of more snow. He estimated his chances of survival under such conditions ranged from improbable to impossible.

With no other choice, he walked out of the forest and started his long, lonely trek across the windy plain. He hugged his arms to his chest, shivering as the wind siphoned away his body heat. The unrelenting stretch of snow was not as desolate and intimidating as the Helcaraxë had been, but he had been much younger then. And surrounded by friends and family. And warmly dressed. And had, despite the scarcity of it, food.

Trying not to focus on what he didn’t have, he pushed forward considering what he did. He did have warm clothes on, just not quite warm enough. He did have flint in his pocket to make a fire, just no fuel to burn. Then there was the matter of food. The pouch he carried had a day’s ration of bread and jerky, and he only had that because Glorfindel insisted everyone carry that much on their person for emergencies.

As he walked, Erestor thought of what Glorfindel must be going through. He must be frantic trying to find him. Worry crossed his features as he considered the possibility of the others falling prey to the orcs he had encountered in their search for him. His insistence on volunteering for this mission, against Glorfindel’s and Elrond’s wishes, hit him hard. None of this would be happening if he hadn’t gotten some silly romantic notion of proving his worth to himself in order to feel worthy of Glorfindel. Why did it take facing death to finally reflect upon the consequences of his actions and petty desires?

He turned his thoughts to the fact that he was vulnerable to any sort of attack and that his footsteps, while barely visible, certainly made him trackable to any with an appetite to do so. On the upside, he would be able to see anything coming at him, and from quite a distance too. He stopped to cast about for any living creature, but saw nothing. Overhead, the clouds claimed their victory over the sun and celebrated with another round of snow. Erestor tried to pick up his pace, but he couldn’t seem to get his limbs to cooperate. His mind began to fog and it was more difficult to tell which direction he was walking. In the far distance he saw a thicket of trees. He momentarily rejoiced before the thought struck him that he might have circled back to the forest he had left that morning.

Erestor never made it to the trees to find out. He continued walking for hours, all the while slowing more and more. As his body temperature dropped, his legs kept going by rote. He no longer knew or cared where he was or how much farther he had to go. All he knew was that he had to keep walking.

The snow stopped eventually, but only because the temperature was dropping with the nightfall. Erestor began to walk in reverie. He was sitting before a warm fire, having a game of chess with Glorfindel, who was winning. It had to be a dream for that to happen a part of his mind told himself. The thought made him laugh, but in his mind he was laughing at a joke Glorfindel had just made. His king was in check and he stared at the board, looking for escape. There was none.

He surrendered his king. “Enjoy your victory, my friend. It will be your last,” he said, sipping his wine.

“No, it will be your last if you don’t get to your feet,” Glorfindel said. “You are lying face down in the snow.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The fire is going out,” Glorfindel observed mildly. “Don’t forget to wait for me.”

Erestor looked out the window but there was nothing beyond, only darkness. “I always will,” he said softly. The embers of the fire glowed dimly. Glorfindel was gone.

When Erestor opened his eyes, he realized something was wrong. Had he had the strength he would have questioned the creature bending over him but all he could do was look dumbly into the concerned gray eyes of the fur-wrapped figure. His limbs were restrained by a thick fur blanket wrapped with leather straps. The realization made his heart sink. He had been captured by somebody or something. A bandit, a wild Dunlending? He had no idea and was in no hurry to find out.

Then the man spoke, and to his surprise addressed him in Sindarin, his voice low and refined.

“You are still among the living, my friend. Don’t be afraid. I found you out on the plain and brought you here to warm you.” He began untying the straps that bound Erestor. “Forgive me but I had to wrap you rather tight. I didn’t want you falling off the travois.”

When he was freed, Erestor stirred, flexing his fingers and toes, which still felt frozen. He tried to sit up but the man put a staying hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy. Let the fur and fire warm you a bit first. When I found you I thought you dead. Good thing you’re an Elf or you would probably lose a few fingers and toes.”

“Where am I?” Erestor asked through cracked lips. “Who are you?”

“You are with the Rangers,” the man said. “I am Arathorn of the Dúnedain. My father is Arador, our Chieftain.”

“Am I so far afield then? I am Erestor of Imladris. I was with a group bringing aid to the men beyond the Bruinen and got separated from my people.”

“The Rangers have also been providing aid and protection to men and the Shire folk. This winter is most fell. I have not seen such in my lifetime.”

Erestor suppressed the urge to chuckle. How old was this man with an unlined face beneath his beard? He probably had boots older.

“Thank you for rescuing me, Arathorn son of Arador. I wish I had a way to repay your kindness, but as you can see I’m a bit light on resources at the moment.”

Arathorn smiled. “We have ever been friends with the Elves. I will see you safely home after this winter has ended.”

“Nay, I must return at once. My captain will be searching for me, and Lord Elrond will as well.”

“I’m afraid that is simply not possible. Travel is too dangerous right now, as you have discovered. I myself was on my way back home when the last storm hit or I would not have found you at all.”

Erestor considered his options, which were few. He could stay with the Rangers until the weather let up or he could attempt to travel unfamiliar lands in hostile conditions alone, which would surely kill him. Upon consideration, his options were exactly one.

“Then I must bow to your superior skills in such matters and and thank you for your efforts on my behalf. I haven’t left the valley much and know little about navigating the wilds.”

“Then why were you out in the storm?”

Erestor related his adventure, leaving out the underlying reason for the events. Arathorn whistled low. 

“That explains why you were so ill-equipped to be wandering. It is not like the Elves to be caught out like that.”

Erestor felt himself blush. “Most Elves who wander the wilds are a bit more knowledgeable about such things. My skills lie in organization and lore.”

“That explains how you managed to escape the orcs with such a clever trick. I’m sure if you had been well supplied you’d have fared much better.”

“Thank you, but I fear most of my cleverness requires a great deal of luck.”

“Luck is not a bad skill to have either,” Arathorn said with a grin.

The weather continued to worsen over the next few weeks until all the Rangers had been forced to return. Erestor had not spent much time around Men, but he learned quickly. They liked to warm themselves with ale and spirits and tell stories, or act them out, far into the long, cold nights. Sometimes a person, man or woman, would start a tale, then the next would add to it and so on until the story ended with a flourish and a toast to the teller deemed the most entertaining. They sang songs Erestor had never heard and some with which he was most familiar. When he recognized a song, he learned to join in with exuberance and was lauded for his “lovely” voice. This amused him, as requests for his singing were usually requests that he not attempt it.

During his time with the Rangers, Erestor learned how to survive in the wild and received training in the sword and bow. He would never be proficient in these skills compared to these men, or especially to Glorfindel, but he gained a new perspective on those called upon to protect their lands.

At night when the people slept, he wrote the things he had learned in a journal Arador had given him, or chatted with the men on guard duty. He thought often of Glorfindel, hoping he and the others were safe in the Hall of Fire and wondering who Glorfindel was losing to at chess in his absence.

As the months dragged on he grew more and more restless, until he had almost determined he was going to take some provisions and go tramping off into the wild to find his home. Then the weather began to improve. The snows melted, creating a different danger as rivers flooded lands for miles around. At last the dark clouds rolled away, the waters receded, and warm spring days returned to the land. 

Arathorn came to him one evening and asked if he was ready to travel.

“Ready?” Erestor responded with a laugh. “I will race you there!”

The two set off the next morning. The breeze brought the scent of blossoming plants and the plain was transformed into a garden of grass and flowers. Birds and butterflies accompanied them upon various parts of their journey, which was remarkable only for how unremarkable it was. Erestor started fires, kept watch with a borrowed sword at his side, cleaned and cooked game and gathered edible plants for their meals. All in all, he was quite pleased with himself and couldn’t wait to tell Glorfindel about his time with the Rangers.

He heard the sound of the Bruinen long before Arathorn did. He saw the trees that lined the ford hours before they drew close enough for the man to spy them. Every step that brought him closer to home brought his spirit closer to ecstasy. When they reached the ford he moved forward, not realizing Arathorn had stopped until he reached the bank of river. He turned to see the man standing at the tree line in his green and brown clothing, just another piece of the landscape to an untrained eye.

“Can you find your way back from here?” Arathorn asked.

“Yes, certainly. Will you not come with me and give your regards to Elrond? You will be most welcome.”

“Nay, I must return. I have my duties just as you have yours.”

Erestor took off his sword and handed it to the man. He stood in silence for a moment, not sure what to say. “There are no words…” he began. His voice broke.

Arathorn gave him a sympathetic smile. “I understand. Thank the Valar that I found you that day and was able to return you safely home.” He paused. “Try not to get lost again. There are no Rangers on the other side of the river.”

Erestor beamed him a smile. “How could I get lost with such a wise teacher?”

They embraced, then Erestor watched him disappear into the trees before he turned back to the river. Now for home!

The river, even at the ford, was swollen and swift but Erestor was an Elf, and he was of this place. The waters slowed and receded as Erestor picked his way over the pebbled river bed. Once he made the other side, the Bruinen rushed and foamed on its way. He made his way through the forest and into the lush valley, breathless with joy at the sight of the Last Homely House. Breaking into a run, his eyes sought out his window, half expecting to see Glorfindel watching for him and a bit disappointed when he wasn’t. By the time he reached the courtyard word had spread, for his coming had been marked by the valley’s watchers. Elrond was waiting for him.

Erestor didn’t break his stride. He ran up to Elrond and caught the Elven Lord up in an embrace that lifted him off his feet. 

“Thank the Powers you’re alive!” Elrond said breathlessly. “What happened? Where have you been?”

“I will be more than happy to tell you everything. As soon as I have a bath and a glass of wine,” Erestor promised.

After the most glorious bath in the history of bathing, Erestor put on fresh clothes, combed and braided his hair, and went to Elrond’s study where he related everything that had happened since getting lost. Elrond agreed that Arathorn’s intervention had been the most marvelous piece of luck and promised to see the Rangers well compensated for their efforts.

“I don’t know, they might actually be insulted at the suggestion,” Erestor said. “They are like Elves in their generosity without expectation of reward.”

“Even so, I shall offer them any reward or service they might wish. I cannot express how glad I am to see you. Glorfindel will be even more so.”

“Is he on patrol? I would have thought he would have come right away when he heard I was back.”

“I’m afraid he is helping a village downriver that was flooded by the snow melt. He won’t return until the end of the week.”

“How has he been?”

“He has been devastated, of course. We almost had to physically restrain him to keep him from going back out in the storms to look for you after he had gotten the others safely home. Then since the weather broke, there has been the flooding to deal with. And all the while he has continued his duties under a pall of desperate melancholy. He has eaten little, has rarely come to the Hall of Fire, has stopped taking pleasure in songs and stories. To be frank, if you had not turned up this spring, I think we might have lost him.”

Erestor was stricken by this and a thought came to him he had never considered. Perhaps the simple act of standing in a window, of being there for someone, of loving someone, actually made a difference against the shadow after all. Maybe it was more than just a silly platitude. He thought of Glorfindel as the strong one, but perhaps he was just as strong in his own way. He had the strength to wait － and believe.

It was the longest three days of a long life Erestor spent waiting for the week to end. Every day he stood in the window, watching. Even though he knew it unlikely that Glorfindel would return early, he feared if he did, he’d miss that moment when Glorfindel came in sight of the house and looked to the window.

On the day of Glorfindel’s return, Erestor started his watch at dawn. At mid-morning he was rewarded with the sight of that golden hair, but the blue eyes were cast down, his shoulders slumped. He looked like a soldier returning defeated from war.

He wished he could call out to him, let him know he was there, but even if he had flung the window wide and shouted Glorfindel couldn’t have heard him. The distance was too great.

As the horses came into the courtyard, Glorfindel lifted sad eyes to what he expected to be an empty window. When he was met with the sight of Erestor, he nearly fell off his horse. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He looked at Elrond, who had come out to greet the party, and Elrond said something to him.

Glorfindel leapt off the horse and bolted inside. Erestor barely had time to turn from the window before Glorfindel burst through the door. He stopped just inside, staring at Erestor like he was an apparition, then strode over and grabbed him by the shoulders to ensure himself he wasn’t. He looked Erestor up and down like some curious artifact.

“What’s the matter,” Erestor teased, “you’ve never seen a man back from the dead before?”

Glorfindel didn’t reply, he just pulled him into a kiss that left both their heads spinning.

When they parted at last, Glorfindel refused to let him go. He just stared into his eyes, drinking him in like one who has traversed a desert and found a pool of clear water.

“I was with the Dúnedain,” Erestor explained. “I would have gotten word to you if I could.”

“The Dúnedain? They are skilled scouts and woodsmen.”

“Which is the reason I am here now," Erestor said with a grin. "I learned a lot from them. Wrote it all down too. You can read it later if you like.”

“So I don’t have to worry about you getting lost again?” Glorfindel teased.

“No, but not because I plan to go traipsing off into the wilds again anytime soon, rather because I’ve found I quite like the view from that window.”


End file.
